


You Saved My Life

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, Chris Argent - Freeform, Coda, Derek Hale - Freeform, Gen, Injury, Letharia Vulpina, Letharia Vulpina coda, enemies gradually becoming allies, past canon chararacter death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 04:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1212646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Derek’s voice is still slurred, and his eyes are barely open, and Chris can’t imagine the kind of pain he’s in. Wonders, distantly, how much pain he’s been through in the past, for, “I’m okay,” to be his response to being filled with chunks of broken glass. Swallows through the wave of gratitude – Chris should be dead right now; he should be the one who’s full of glass – as Derek leans against the space above the toilet, and Chris pulls out the first piece as carefully as he can.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Saved My Life

Chris doesn’t have the luxury of time. Pretty soon, someone’s going to notice that their two resident convicts are still alive, and that one of them has a back filled with glass – and Chris doesn’t fancy trying to explain to the cops why Derek’s going to heal without so much as a scar. Keeps his hands on Derek’s arms as he glances around – but nobody’s paying attention to them. There are too many officers down for that; and Chris tugs on Derek’s arm, swallowing down his surprise when Derek follows without a word. Gets them down the hall and into the washroom, and then nudges Derek into a stall, and locks the door behind them. There’s not enough space for two fully-grown men – one of whom happens to be a werewolf – but it’s the best he’s got right now.

“Just do it.”

Derek’s voice is still slurred, and his eyes are barely open, and Chris can’t imagine the kind of pain he’s in. Wonders, distantly, how much pain he’s been through in the past, for, “I’m okay,” to be his response to being filled with chunks of broken glass. Swallows through the wave of gratitude – Chris should be dead right now; he should be the one who’s full of glass – as Derek leans against the space above the toilet, and Chris pulls out the first piece as carefully as he can. Hears a scraping sound, and looks up to find Derek’s claws out and digging into the wall. Can feel Derek shaking, though he doesn’t make a sound; and Chris takes a deep breath as he works as gently as he can, his hands slowly getting smeared with blood, and the larger pieces of glass gradually ending up in a pile on the floor. Outside the room, he can hear people shouting – can hear the sound of ambulance sirens, can hear someone crying – but his daughter still has her father, thanks to the werewolf standing in front of him; and nothing else matters more than that.

“Thank you.”

Derek doesn’t even seem to hear him – Chris really isn’t surprised, given how laboured Derek’s breathing has become, and given how there are lines being gouged into the wall – and Chris works to keep his hands as gentle as he can, most of the larger pieces gone, by now. Wishes for the morphine he’s got stashed away in the office. Pauses, for a second, to stare at what he’s got left – there’s still glass all the way from Derek’s shoulders to his waist – and then Derek makes a sound that sounds like it’s been pulled from deep inside him, and moves a bit closer.

“Pull off t-the jacket.”

“Derek.”

“It’ll – get out most of what’s left.”

And it’ll hurt something awful, too – pulling everything out at the same time – but Chris gets it. The sooner this is done, the sooner Derek can start healing. Wishes he had something to cut the jacket off with. Settles, instead, for helping Derek get his arms down and through the sleeves, Derek’s breath coming in shaky rasps as he does – until Chris is able to slide the jacket off all at once, little pieces of glasses flying everywhere, and Derek makes a noise like it’s been punched out of him. Ends up leaning back up against the wall and panting, his head hanging low and his claws digging back into the concrete – and Chris drops the jacket on the floor and marvels, suddenly, at how much it stings to see Derek like this. Derek, whom Chris has always held accountable for Victoria’s death, but – maybe there was a bit more blame to go around than that, as much as the idea sits foul in his stomach. Maybe their family really had been hunting in all the wrong places.

“We should – get back out there.”

“Still some glass left.”

Derek just nods – doesn’t say a word – and Chris makes his blood-slick fingers seek out anything that’s left. Can barely see anything through the bloody mess of Derek’s t-shirt. Gets out anything he can find, and then steps back, just barely resisting the impulse to wipe his hands on his jeans.

“I’m going to wash my hands. If you want to lose that shirt, you can wear my jacket.”

Derek just nods again, and Chris fumbles the stall door open, leaving bloody handprints as he does. Gets the taps turned on and washes his hands and wrists as best he can – can’t get the blood out from under his nails, but it’s better than nothing – and then turns to find Derek still looking a bit shaky as he stands there shirtless, though he’s got his eyes open, at least. Is watching Chris with an expression that Chris can’t figure out, so he settles instead for sliding out of his jacket and handing it over. Derek barely winces as he puts it on – most of the glass must be out, then, and it's possible that he's already starting to heal – and then – insanely – Chris can’t stop a snort as Derek zips up the jacket and nearly busts the zipper doing so. Looks like he’s going to rip clean through the shoulders. For a moment, Derek just stares at him, completely implacable; and then his eyes go to the mirror, and his lips press together in a way that looks less than impressed, and Chris can’t help the grin. Adrenaline, he knows. Adrenaline and soul-deep gratitude. He should be dead right now. Feels the shake set into his legs, and pushes it down as best he can. This is not the time.

“Come on, then. Let’s get out there before anyone notices we’re gone.”

“Stilinski knows what I am. He might be able to help us.”

“Good. We’re going to need all the allies we can get.”

Derek just nods at that, and Chris scans his eyes across the room – knows there’s nothing to be done for the mess of broken glass and blood and clothing in the stall, and hopes like hell that it’ll get pushed to the wayside in the greater scheme of things to worry about – and then Derek takes a deep breath, and Chris looks at him again. Doesn’t what to do with the gratitude he thinks he can suddenly see in Derek’s face, as Derek waves his hand in way that seems to gesture at his back.

“Thank you. For – that.”

“You saved my life. It was the least I could do.”

Derek looks like he doesn’t know how to respond to that – and, given that, not more than a few hours ago, there has been claws around Chris’ throat and a gun against Derek’s temple, maybe Derek’s feeling just as confused about this whole situation as Chris is – and Chris gives him what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and heads for the washroom door. Wonders, as he does so, if he’s ever knowingly turned his back on a werewolf. Pushes open the door and steps into the hallway, fighting the way his stomach turns over at the sounds and sights that greet him; and then Derek steps up beside him, and Chris takes a deep breath and starts looking around for anything they can do to help.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone fancies being tumblr buddies (http://twisting-vine-x.tumblr.com/), I'm always happy to make new friends. ♥


End file.
